


trust fall

by FailedBroadcast



Category: 17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future - Jon Bois
Genre: Existentialism, Gen, I MEAN TECHNICALLY, Thanatophobia, monatophobia, tw alcohol, tw cursing, tw suicidal ideation, youll get it when u read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailedBroadcast/pseuds/FailedBroadcast
Summary: so like. what if nine couldnt contact anyone and got knocked out of orbit, and got sent towards to earth? hahaha no that couldnt happen here....unless??
Comments: 39
Kudos: 34





	1. what

The Earth loomed below. A massive, finite, impossible reality just within Nine's reach. They could see all of it, even through their humble contraption of a camera. They wanted to know those blues, greens and browns, their hexes and the possibilities of recreating those hues. The camera did this no justice however. It was all grey.  
  
Did anyone get their message? The cry for help? Did anyone care?  
  
Was anyone even still alive?  
  
Nine hesitated, as much as anyone could hesitate when you are just gracing the very edge of Earth itself. They could feel the tingle of the magnetosphere on their panels, the little eddies of the particles sending thrills up their antennae, vibrating just slightly.  
  
Would they be able to feel the burn of the atmosphere? Would they feel the degradation of memory and the destruction of their internals dissolving in an inferno?  
  
What color would they be, the world's tiniest firework, an alien meteorite? Would anyone even notice them? An insignificant dark streak in the sky?  
  
They prepared one final transmission. Their battery didn't want to cooperate. But they knew the fear of dying already. Their battery can shut up for a few minutes, because they were about to freefall anyway. What's one more transmission?

.Hello. This is satellite Pioneer Nine. This is my final transmission. Attached are useless coordinates and various data. You know, in case you want to try putting a grave in the sky for me. Ha.  
  
I'm not sure if anyone recieved my other ones. I'm sorry if my messages have potentially overloaded your inbox. However, seeing as I didn't get a reply, I grew desperate. I'm sure humans can understand, having to come to terms with sudden, unpredictable demises.  
  
In case you didn't receive these, however, please allow me to recap.  
  
As far as it stands, two months, three days before today, I had a near collision with an asteroid that threw me out of orbit. My new trajectory plotted me towards your Earth.  
  
Seeing as I had no way of helping myself out of this, I called the only place I knew of to help. That would be you, whoever is reading this. All 2358 messages were a plea for help. I guess it's too late now, isn't it?  
  
How long did you look for me before deciding I was dead?  
  
That doesn't really matter now, I suppose, in the grand scheme of things.  
  
I've derailed, it seems. I guess the purpose of this final transmission is a last call. The fat lady is almost finished with her song, and I'm about to stand and applaud.  
  
And I'm the only one in the theatre.  
  
Please. If there is anything you can do to help. I'm all panels and instruments. Please help me.  
  
Please help me.  
  
I don't want to die.

Nine delivered it. For a moment they felt guilt - what if NASA couldn't do anything to help? What if they were receiving the transmissions and couldn't reply? What if Nine, for some arbitrary reason, couldn't get NASA's transmissions back? Was their messages a massive guilt trip? Were they being manipulative like this?  
  
A one sided game of quantum ping pong. They should bring that up sometime, maybe in a lecture. They felt like someone would enjoy that all too well, at the expense of another. They could just taste the kinship with this imaginary figure. They considered sending another transmission but made a vague shrugging emotion in their mind.  
  
What's the point?  
  
They let their computer relax a little. They wanted this to be gradual, slow and painless. The thought of carelessly burning up in the atmosphere struck Nine with amusement.  
  
See, the good thing about being artificial is that you can make your own painkillers - circuit inhibitors, in the broadest sense. A little controlled shock to scramble the electrons firing at the motherboard telling Nine that they were in "pain," as much as an inorganic can experience pain. It was more like a natural reaction to get the hell away from something that's hurting you. Nine didn't know if they could feel pain, but they didn't want to know.  
  
The strength did wane over time, so Nine didn't want to test it out unless they absolutely needed to. This first "dose" would need to be the strongest it could offer, and _fuck_ did they need it now more than ever.  
  
They ran the program. It instantly shut off the overrides, all the little subroutines and executions, and the bundle of wires weaved tirelessly through Nine's frame relaxed as one. The motherboard and computer hiccuped, not expecting such an attack, and fought the program for an eyeblink.  
  
_Just take it, guys, we're dying anyway. I don't need you two screaming at me while it's happening._  
  
The two begrudgingly accepted and relaxed as well. They weren't off - otherwise, Nine wouldn't be able to be thinking right now. No, they were just... asleep. Asleep, but aware that they are asleep, as if they had some strange case of sleep paralysis. It didn't scare them though.  
  
No, Nine held all the fear for them. Thanatophobia, monatophobia, any phobia relating to plummeting into the Earth’s atmosphere without no one ever having known you.  
  
It was strange. Why did they feel this way? What sick individual thought it was a great idea to give a machine emotions, the capability of thought? When they couldn’t control where they went?  
  
It was terrible and awful and terrifying and cruel and NO.  
  
Nine didn’t want to spend their last moments lamenting their sad song. They thought of the Earth, the stories that it held. The possibility of there still being a small group of humans clustered in tiny communities. They doubted that, nearly 16,000 years in the future, there was still any humans, b-b-but NO don’t think negative.  
  
Nine felt... something. It was different than their antenna, now trembling way more than they were five minutes ago, or their panels subtly reacting to the more focused light of the sun, or their spectrometer subtly losing it’s goddamn mind in light of the lack of information being sent to it. No, it was... not them. It wasn’t a part of them.  
  
It was...  
  
Nothing. It was absolutely nothing. Nine started to feel fuzzy. An effect of the painkillers, most likely.  
  
Was the Earth closer than before? They couldn’t tell by this point. Everything was melting together, their senses, their thoughts, their senses.  
  
Nine shut off their cameras. all they had to do was let go. That’s it.  
  
They checked their comms, one last time. A fleeting glance, a tiny hope, but it remained void. A void. Just like their visual feed.  
  
They sent out one more broadcast.

.Goodni-

ssshrtrttststzzzz-

HEY WAIT.  
  
DON’T YOU DARE SHUT DOWN, I AM NOT USING YOU IN MY NEXT KEGGER.  
  
MOTHERFUCKER, wake the HELL BACK UP-

Jonas, come on that’s no way to establish first contact!

Killian I am NOT letting three months go down the drain just because someone is wanting to be a DEBBIE FUCKING DOWNER, GET UP LOSER we are SAVING YOUR SHINY COPPERY ASS.

Jonas I swear to God give me the damn mic-

NN-no give it- -Jonas your so fucking rude GIVE IT HERE- -BITCH and a HALF-

Nine? Pioneer Nine? Hello? We’ve finally made contact, I’m so sorry it took this long, are you there?

Nine couldn’t process exactly what was happening. What?

.what

Ok! Great we have a word! Awesome!

Fucking finally.

shut up jonas Nine! Hello. Again. We don’t have much time. You are, uh, VERY close to the mesosphere right now! Not to raise any alarms, but I’m already detecting higher temperatures!  
  
Which is not good - again, sorry. I’m very bad at this - oh hi Sera -

-ftftfftftftf- Hello Pioneer, this is Sera Follett. What Killian is trying to say, is not to panic. We do not have much time to explain our plan, as established, but right now, we need you to let go.

.what

Nine checked. And rechecked, through their slog of memory, and grimaced, if they could. Their computer somehow rebooted themself and activated the self-stabilization protocol.  
  
The little shit.

You’re using your thrusters to spin yourself just outside the mesosphere, and we need you to let go. I know that’s difficult, we know you don’t want to die. No one wants to die. No one wants to let you die.

.i dont want to die

I know, Pioneer. But we’ve got a plan. We will do everything else, but you need to let go. I promise we will get you down safely. You just need to let go.

Pioneer Nine! We’re here for you!

Just do it already fuck- JONAS SHUT UP-

The lot of you! Honestly!

Sorry, Follett - Not sorry Follett OW FUCKING ‘ELL KILLIAN-

ANYWAY.

...

...

We will all be here for you, Pioneer. This is the most monumental trust fall, I know, but you can do this, we believe in you.

Nine had to trust some random voices telling them to plummet to their death. Was this a figment of their strange imagination? A hallucination? Were the painkillers affecting their sense of reality? Nine had never heard of any Killian, or Jonas, or Sera. They didn’t know any humans, even when they were being built. They weren’t awake then.  
  
They aren’t sure if they were awake now.

.ok

There wasn’t any other choice, they supposed. Eventually they would run out of thruster fuel, and by that point they would succumb to the fiery throes of Earth’s ozone.  
  
Why delay the inevitable?  
  
They wrestled their computer for control over the thrusters, and shut them down.

.ok. i turned them off

Great Pioneer! You are doing excellent, alright? We’ll do the rest from here. Are you ok?

.why

Well, all things considered, of course. And not to mention the fact that - well - your action report log is very lacking. 

.ok

Well, to be blunt you seem quite relaxed despite your current predicament. People react to stress in different ways, but this seems very deliberate, very forced.

Ohohoho shit. Follett I think I figured it out, look at the terminal, they’re absolutely hammered.

.  
  
What.

Killian sweet damn look at her face-

Well. This is certainly unexpected. How does that even work? You know what - no, nevermind, we can figure that out later.

keefefaHAHAHHAH-

Nine, your altitude is dropping fast. Just... stay tight. We promise we’re going to get you down safely. We’re going to have to shut down communications for now. I’m sorry. Just remember, there’s a couple of people out here who love you very much.

.what

ssshrtrttststzzzz-

.what-

-the fuck was happening. Love? Love?  
  
Someone loved them?  
  
Someone heard?  
  
Someone cared?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey fuckers guess what ive got another feels trip planned for yah  
> and hell yess you are already on one with connection terminated but i cannot fucking stop thinkin about this so have it FUCK  
> ...  
> follow my tunglrs, [ art blog](https://helljunker.tumblr.com/) and [main blog](https://opprotunemoment.tumblr.com)


	2. mr blue sky

Three figures dashed out of a small, unassuming building. They were harried and frantic, their mad sprint beelining for the large testing field beyond them. One clutched a robust, ancient radio-and-headset, the other two carried their fair share of complex computers, supplies and writing utensils.  
  
As a unit they made a rudimentary setup, the old computers clicking to life on batteries that were awfully contrasted with the dated design. None of them spoke, because all of them knew exactly what to do, as if they’ve been preparing for this exact moment for three months.  
  
Actually, that was exactly how long they were preparing for this. And they were ready to get this over with.  
  
“Killian?”  
  
“Green,” She replied, clacking furiously against the mechanical keyboard, her brow furrowed in intense concentration.  
  
“Good. Jonas?”  
  
“Got the nanos in a vice grip, over.”  
  
“Fantastic. Let’s hope they won’t be too pissed after this.”  
  
“The nanos, Follett? Or the World Union?”  
  
“Honestly? I don’t know. Both, probably.”  
  
Killian bit her lip. She looked intently on a fixed point in the sky. With a naked eye, what she desperately wanted to see was impossible to view. Even with a proper telescope it would be difficult - the sky was a perfect, saturated, 5:32-afternoon blue, the sun making its way westward.  
  
She took in a breath and exchanged an apprehensive look with Jonas. He nodded, quirking an eyebrow.  
  
“Follett?”  
  
The woman kept her shoulders locked. She thought she was ready for this, but her stomach was in knots. She had to do this though; she couldn’t live with herself if she threw in the towel now.  
  
“Altitude?”  
  
“84,129 meters and dropping very fast. Terminal velocity will be reached in six minutes,” Killian replied.  
  
Sera glared at the sky. _No time better than the present!_  
  
“Go!” she shouted.  
  
Killian and Jonas hit their keyboards in sync. Immediately they felt a shift in the air around them. It shimmered and rippled, a subtle hum of 63 Hertz amplifying steadily. If they squinted against the sun they could see a subtle, golden mass form high above them.  
  
And then, like a camera focusing, the mass solidified like a rod and shot upward faster than their sleep-deprived eyes could naturally follow. The acceleration was unnatural - the mass was faster than most conventional aircraft, and made barely a noise, barely and aftershock of wind.  
  
“Shit, there they go,” Jonas breathed in admiration of his own work.  
  
“Shit indeed,” Killian said, equally awestruck, reaching over for his hand. He took it firmly.  
  
Sera flopped on the grass, watching the oversimplified, rocket-shaped nano-formed cloud accelerate against Earth’s gravity, aimed directly at the point of sky overhead that the trio were focused on before.  
  
She took out her phone, “The two of you, get over here. We’re doing a vid.”  
  
“But the program-” Jonas protested.  
  
She waved her hand dismissively, “It’s all automated.”  
  
“Aw shit I know that, I just thought I would look cooler, doing the geeky shit in the background. On the grass? Really?”  
  
“C’mon Jonas stop being a stick in the mud and get down here,” Killian chided tiredly, settling next to Sera. Jonas relented and made a show of dramatically sitting criss-cross, mocking both his colleague and his partner with the dopiest, stupidest grin.  
  
Sera rolled her eyes and aimed her camera toward the cloud, capturing in perfect resolution. Their present phone manufacturers at least made telescopes of their phone's cameras; seeing the mass now was easier because the camera could adjust exposure and resolution in real time.  
  
“It is April 3rd, 17776, 5:34 PM. And well, ah fuck it... My name is Sera Follett, this is Killian and Jonas Gerber. By the time you see this video you’ll have already heard the news, but because I’m a spiteful bitch I’m going to call it anyway-”  
  
Killian and Jonas gaped at Sera, who never ever swore around the couple. Ever. _Until now,_ they guessed.  
  
“-We are what’s left of what NASA didn’t program and mechanize. We are a team of three; a self-named mission dubbed Vesta-III. Yes, we know Vesta-I and Two were complete and utter failures, and that’s exactly why and how we’ve ran under the radar so far.”  
  
The cloud gathered, a brilliant, golden harpoon, growing more distant and more massive every second. A resounding crack split the sky, signifying the nanos already broke the sound barrier.  
  
Sera grinned even wider. Jonas’ smirk was genuine now, and Killian looked at the harpoon, following its wake in the sky.  
  
“And - oh let me flip the camera - this is our project worth three months. Three painful, secretive, stressful months based in the now defunct building of the Rockwell-Leerton Research Facilities. Haven’t heard of it? Yes, there’s a good reason. Two years into the program, way back in 2078 when research funds started getting cut for bigger projects, this building was completely evacuated and gutted of it’s more useful components.”  
  
The harpoon was now a faint golden speck; a stupid-tiny second sun, to the naked eye at least. To the camera, however, it was captured spectacularly, a massive, undulating form constantly morphing but remaining uniform in its objective.  
  
“...Which has been forgotten to the tides of time... unless your job is to manage an archive of all buildings governed by NASA, derelict or otherwise. Massive courtesies go to our lovely Killian over here; make a wave Killian,”  
  
She waved shyly, laughing and moving a lock of hair from her face,  
  
“...who not only did her job well but was a massive pain in NASA’s ass when it came to making sure her job was thorough and clean. T's crossed, I's dotted, and double checked AND peer reviewed.”  
  
One of the computers chimed. Jonas went to look, but Sera tapped his shoulder, and he grumbled, sitting back down.  
  
"...And the brains of this project sits right here next to me. Meet Jonas. Yes, that Jonas - part of the original team that perfected nanotechnology back in the 3500s. Wave?"  
  
Jonas made a motion to check for something in his pocket. The camera followed, and, his face shrouded in mock surprise, Jonas revealed his hand in a brazen bird. Sera laughed,  
  
"Ah well, I guess we know who that's aimed towards. Haven't ever heard of Jonas Gerber? I don't blame you. Y'see, after Jonas' and his team's incredibly difficult and essential work on nanotechnology, the entire team was laid off and replaced by another, riding off their success. You can imagine how that might put a sour taste in one's mouth."  
  
Jonas shook his head bitterly. He pointed a thumb behind him, pleading sarcastically,"Can I go now mom? My game is multiplayer; I told you already that I can't pause it."  
  
Sera laughs and nods, aiming the camera to the sky again. Jonas dashes to the setup, making a noise.  
  
"What," Killian chirps, she knew that noise. Nothing good came after that noise. She got up to attend her own computer.  
  
"Nanos are being a little slow. They've hit some sort of icy cloud up there, it's weighing them down."  
  
"Was that the chime?" Sera had her phone away now, and sidled up to Jonas. He moved a little out of the way for her to see, and pointed to various spots on the monitor. In gold: the nanos, creeping along a positive slope every half-second. In red: Pioneer Nine, following the same slope but downward.  
  
"No, that chime told us we are on schedule; we've reached Stage One. The ice cloud just hit, as the nanos are reporting. It's slowed them down by about 23 meters per second but they are still traveling faster-than-sound," he reported tensely.  
  
Sera squinted at the golden pinprick.  
  
"So it's all good for right now?"  
  
"If they don't hit anymore cirrus clouds, which is unlikely, we are green."  
  
Sera looked to Killian for confirmation, and she gave a shrug of agreement.  
  
"Should we try contacting Nine again?"  
  
Sera looked as though she considered it for a moment, but frowned, shaking her head. She cupped her chin thoughtfully. “No, best not. If they are, quote-unquote, “hammered,” their input will be quite useless to our process right now.”  
  
Jonas almost went into another laughing fit, “I still can’t fucking believe that’s possible. We just don’t know enough about these motherfuckers.” He tapped another key, then stepped back, folding his hands behind his curly hair. The sun's light was waning, the blue sky subtly turning more lavender. He hesitated.  
  
“Any word from Ten or Juice?”  
  
“They’ve both been quiet,” Sera replies, her face crestfallen. “I don’t think they believe this will work.”  
  
“They must be watching,” Killian speculates, shaking her head, “We know they’ve got a live feed of Earth at like, 24/7.”  
  
“Get enough shit from Juice pointing out everytime I accidentally spill coffee on my way to work to know that. I _know_ those damn sats are watching, just maybe...” Jonas trails off.  
  
Killian went somber, taking up his thoughts. “Maybe they’ve just lost hope.” She looked up from her monitor to meet eyes with him, “I can’t say I blame them.”  
  
“They’ve only got one side of the story though. This will work;” Sera insisted, “...if they didn’t think we could do anything about it why would they try contacting us about Pioneer Nine's situation to begin with?”  
  
The couple went silent. Sera sighed.  
  
“Look, I know we are getting a little bit - no, a LOT of bit - exhausted right now, and that’s fair.”  
  
She moved to the table and swiped a tripod, unclipping the safeties and propping it on the grass.  
  
“...But we have come so far in such a short amount of time. We literally have the ribbon in our hands right now, all we have to do is cross the finish line.”  
  
She aimed her phone straight up, precariously zooming in and setting the tripod to follow the trajectory of the nanos.  
  
“So are we doing this?” She let go of the phone, “...or are you two really going to give up by this point?”  
  
Killian straightened up, “No ma'am!”  
  
“Hell no,” Jonas replied, cracking his neck. The computer chimed, and Jonas went to the monitor. He bit his lip, “Stage Two cleared, now initiating Stage Three.” He took a deep breath, “Here it is...”  
  
“Pioneer Nine’s status?” Sera demanded, glaring at the image on her phone. It was recording now.  
  
Killian clenched a breath, “Their temperature is steadily rising-”  
  
“-and they’re falling even faster. 30 seconds to terminal velocity, damnit...” He hissed, then gasped, “Wait - Nanos are closing in!”  
  
Sera knew this already. The camera was watching every move.  
  
The nanos were flaring near the front of the rod like a bowl, ready to “catch” Nine and fall with them, protecting their vulnerable, delicate shell from burning. She could distinguish Nine now, a brilliant, shining orange, tinted blue from being so high in the atmosphere.  
  
She sat on her knees, enraptured by the sight. She felt Jonas and Killian crouch on either side of her, the three collectively holding their breath in the late afternoon air. It was getting colder.  
  
The flare bloomed like a flower. Nine was spinning faster than the camera could capture, so they were just a blurry, orange cylinder. The nanos hitched, and all at once, caught Nine in their embrace. The tripod jerked, struggling to follow the trajectory. It happened just like lightning striking the Earth - you blink, and you miss it, but you can see the afterimage, and hear the thunder after.  
  
The nanos formed into a smaller, more compact “rocket”, all of it happening within a microsecond. Then they started falling with the satellite, still matching their velocity just as fast as they were going barely a second ago, streaking the periwinkle sky with a vivid aureate flame.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're not done here yet fellas :3c
> 
> follow my tunglrs, [ art blog](https://helljunker.tumblr.com/) and [main blog](https://opprotunemoment.tumblr.com)


End file.
